Haylie POV
After JC carried me, quite literally, back home, he placed me down on the kitchen chair as if I were nothing more than a bag he'd hauled. I watched him disappear from the kitchen, his footsteps fading into the quiet house.
Moments later, he returned, a soft, warm blanket draped over his arm. Without a word, he wrapped it gently around my shoulders.
"Here, you need to stay warm," he said, his voice low but steady.
"Thank you," I murmured, clutching the blanket and pulling it tighter around myself. My eyes followed him as he moved about the old wooden kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and set it to boil, then retrieved two mugs from a cabinet, spooning in coffee and sugar with practiced ease.
"Why me?" I dared to ask, my voice barely louder than the hum of the kettle. He didn't look at me, his focus now on the fridge as he retrieved the milk.
